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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26255449">identity crisis</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room'>Control_Room</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Into the Breach (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Dimensions, Alternate Universe, Broken Bones, Crying, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Identity Crises, Identity Issues, Joeyverse, Light Angst, Minor Character Death, vek assult</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:34:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26255449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What is in a name?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>identity crisis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>freckle is queen's &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hull integrity at zero percent!”  Joey shouted, his arm twisted in behind himself in the prime mech he was operating. Though he had requested science based gear, Archive, Inc. claimed that they were unable to provide it - even though damn demonic Hyde had sent them on a mission to protect their shuttle rockets, even though his co-CEO Jekyll had protested the complete need, siding with Johan, though their clause had been overruled. Johan hissed as he tried to course correct, desperately wishing he was in a mech that he could have controlled easier. They were here for the people, not the history. They were here to </span>
  <em>
    <span>save</span>
  </em>
  <span> history, damnit. Those thoughts raced through Johan’s head as he struggled to wrench free his arm to avoid an oncoming attack. The hornet was getting too close, and Joey snarled as he set to work to pilot the mech with his nondominant right hand. The only thing he could do was - “I’m going to r-ram into it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Johan, no!” Freckle yelled, “Is there a way I can get to you? I can hop if I have to!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Error, trajectory distance too far,” Genos informed him. “Johan, is there a way you can protect yourself?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” Joey replied after glancing around, and readied his charging attack. “See you all next timeline.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“NO!” Freckle’s scream was the last thing he heard before he focused on the hornet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes and thought about a pure ocean.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had a sister, no, a brother, was it a step brother? His name was Issac Jones - no, that cannot be right, why are they screaming Joey? Jo... Jo... Issac... Ic... I... J... I J. JI? Everything was red.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Too many lives jolted through his mind. Too many lives lost. Gained. Loved. Hated. Fought. Gave up. Strived. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tried.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tried again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tried again to lift his pounding head, his head that felt like someone had dumped a thousand metal bricks into his skull and had fun with a taser after. A crackling groan emitted from his throat, much like a dusty old record. He could not see, not anything at all, but he could not tell if his eyes were open either. If they were not; well, maybe it would be best to keep them shut. Who knew what kind of horror or devastation he would see if he did open them? His head, balancing precariously on his shoulders, rolled back, another deep sound of discomfort escaping him. His arm felt as though it were chained down, though he wondered what crime he had committed against the CEOs that would warrant his arrest. While he was not exactly a model citizen, what with his painstaking and nerve wracking need for painkillers and the lengths he had gone through to obtain his monthly stock, but he was a good worker, and a Pilot nonetheless, and so he was confused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He decided to go back to sleep, to sort out the names that flashed through his head discordantly, Bethany, Hessiah, Abe, Henry, who? Why? And most importantly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>when?</span>
  </em>
  <span> That final question seemed to be answered less and less as the whens increased in volume, progressing from ‘last tuesday’ to ‘last tuesday of timeline x in dimension y’. Find Z.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was too much information and far too many variables. It made his head spin and stomach drop. He tried to gather the scraps of who he was, but he was too many. He curled up under the too light hospital blanket, and tried to remember.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tried.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tried again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My name is…” he swallowed air into his burning lungs. A part of him reminded that a common side effect of breathing too much smoke would cause lung pain. “My name is Johan Ramirez, of d-dimension ITB dash J. I am one of the Joey Drew mech pilots, and counterpart t-to Issac Jones of dimension ITB Alpha. I am…” he faltered by his age, suddenly dizzy and uncertain. He mumbled out some calculations from under his pillow, and gave up trying to determine the exact through relativity. “Young c-compared to my cohort. I have a doctorate in t-temporal and quantum physics, and s-some minor medical training. I… I… I… I care about life. Especially that of others.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re awake!” Freckle bound into the room, almost leaping onto him, but restrained himself due to the injuries sustained by the taller. “Oh, gods, I’m so glad you’re okay. We thought you were a goner. Your arm is broken, by the way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, I had n-not noticed that,” Johan replied with sincerity and glanced at the bandages. The bloodstains on them seemed rather old to his trained eye, and he looked up at the worried other man, who was twisting a strand of his hair. “How… how l-long have I been out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“About a week,” Freckle admitted, biting his lip. Joey stared at him and tried to get up, but Freckle pushed him back down. “Whoa whoa whoa! You need to rest!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No time for that,” Johan rasped, glancing around and noticing that he was not in Archive’s unfamiliarly familiar ward. “Are we on the Hangar?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, your sub managed to help us defeat the Vek hive,” Freckle replied, glad to see that Johan remained in bed. “But… Genos didn’t make it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johan blinked, his eyes turning wet. His back faced Freckle for a few minutes, and he realized with a pang that the man was crying for their fallen companion. The amount of love Johan held for even non sentients was remarkable, and the complete care he bestowed on everything indicated his big heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Freckle wrapped an arm over his shoulder, slow and gentle so as not to startle him. Joey gasped with a sob that tore from his throat, and he turned to bury his face against Freckle’s stomach, shaking and weeping. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be okay, Jo,” Freckle tried to assure him, but did not sound too sure himself. “It’ll get better.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t r-remember my name,” he hiccoughed, holding onto strands. </span>
</p>
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